My concentration was at its highest, and I could not understand why that backup was so slow. The heat would not let me focus, and I was sweating, and the sweat was distracting me.
All of a sudden, the sound of the intercom. I jumped in my chair. I looked at the clock: 10. Perfectly on time. "Good". I suspended my task, opened the window and told them to come in, while I put on a pair of shorts and went down to the street.
Two lads got out of the white van. One came towards me smiling, holding out his hand: "Pleased to meet you, soy Federico." I held out my hand too, and replied with the same smile. Very thin, tanned, tidy and clean. In no time at all, he started unloading his tools and asking me where the entry point into the house was. "We come down from the pole, then we connect to the inspection chamber, and we arrive wherever you want." I showed him my idea, which I had already prepared with some electrician’s pull wires. "Perfect, Señor, very simple! I only need to dig a small trench, twelve metres along the passage. I’ll get the pickaxe."
I looked at him. Twelve metres, 35 degrees, pickaxe? He smiled. "Yes, it takes me longer to get the machine down than to do it by hand. Don’t worry, Señor, I am used to it." He started digging and, in fact, in just a few minutes he had made the small trench. I offered him a coffee, which he gladly accepted. Then some water. No, he already had that. While he was drinking the coffee, he thanked me. People do not offer it very often, but he appreciates it.
"I can imagine how tiring it must be to work in this heat, in the street..." "No, Señor. Yes, it is hot, but it is a pleasure. I like my work. I learn a lot, I meet many people, soy lucky."
He wanted to talk, to tell me about himself. I decided to stop and stay with him while he worked, and the more I listened, the more he worked with joy. He had left Argentina with his whole family a few years before. He did not speak Italian, but "Italian and Spanish are similar. We understand each other." But when he started working, he realised he could not understand. "They were not speaking Italian, Señor! Only their local language. But in the end I had learnt something, and they laughed. I spoke badly. But they understood me, eh!" Then he was transferred a thousand kilometres away. "And here they speak Italian, I understand everything! And they understand me! But I had become fond of my old people, even if I did not understand them." Federico, meanwhile, kept digging and talking. "My little girls went to school here. They speak Italian perfectly, and they have many friends! They are fascinated by their origin, and some families hope their children may learn a little Spanish with them."
His face, more and more sweaty, kept smiling. "How could I complain? I have a good job, my family is well. I want to buy a house, I have some savings, but I need to get a mortgage. Actually, could you give me some advice, Señor?"
I smiled. I explained a few tricks to him, a few things that could make it easier for him. He thanked me in his own way: he did an even more precise job, even cleaner. And he kept smiling, serene. "When I left for Italy with my family, I thought I was mad. Instead, it was the best thing I have ever done. After my little girls, of course!" And he burst out laughing.
At the end of the work, when it was time to say goodbye, I offered him another bottle of water, but he declined. "I have my supply, Señor. Today is hot and I am prepared. Today is a beautiful full day!" I thanked him with a friendly, familiar handshake. "Thank you for the coffee and the advice, Señor. I appreciate it very, very much!" He manoeuvred quickly and threw himself back into the street, waving warmly at me with his hand.
I went back to my study. I sat down on my chair and returned to my backup. I smiled. I had put a rate limiter on the IP. Click, removed. The backup started flowing again at its regular speed.
And, all of a sudden, I realised I had stopped sweating.
